


Good Intentions and Those who Have Them

by Tator



Series: all he sees is red [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, M/M, PTSD!Steve, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, depressed!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:26:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6516622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tator/pseuds/Tator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky blinked. “My intentions?” </p><p>“Yes, as Steve’s <i>best friend</i>, I look out for the guy-“ Bucky sucked in a breath. A black and white memory flashed before his eyes when he was still small and introduced Steve to his ma as his best pal; he felt a stab behind his third rib. “-So, what are your intentions?” </p><p>or the one where Sam Wilson sits down with Bucky Barnes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Intentions and Those who Have Them

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series. I suggest reading the first one because it does have a lot of context, but hey, people pick things up pretty fast. So do you.
> 
> Steve hallucinates blood on his hands, so this is a trigger for those who might need it. It isn't mentioned graphically.

**Monday, October 5th, 9:23am**

Bucky slumped over in his chair, both hands gripping the coffee cup tightly. His eyes shifted around the cafe quickly, like he was looking for an escape. It reminded Sam of when they first found him. He was always looking for the exits, making sure he could run if he needed to. Sam knew that he wasn’t going to run this time, not if he actually cared. Sam hoped he actually cared. He didn’t know what would happen if he decided to run again. 

“So.” Sam started, sipping his own coffee. Bucky sighed before making eye contact for the first time since he sat down. “I heard about the other night.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, it was a crazy one.” 

“Crazy isn’t the appropriate word.” Bucky balled his hands into fist quickly. “Tell me what happened. From your point of view.” 

Bucky wasn’t a big fan of people giving him orders these days. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up like there was a threat around (maybe a threat to his personal wellbeing). But, this was important. He wasn’t going to fuck this up, not again. He took a deep a breath. “We were on a mission, Nat and me. Tony and Steve were supposed to be watching the security cameras and making sure we weren’t under any suspicion. It was going fine through our side. We had the marks phone, and looking through it when Tony gave us the Code Red, White, and Blue. So I went up to make sure he was okay. He had a break down, but he wasn’t hurting himself.”

“And the next day.” Sam took another sip of his coffee. 

“We talked. I told him my side-“

“Which is?” 

“It was for his protection.” Sam took another sip and Bucky imagined throwing his mug across the coffee shop. This wasn’t going well, he mused. 

Sam straightened his spine out, making him look taller, bigger. Bucky wanted to shrink down to nothing. Thirty seconds passed according to the clock that was sitting behind Sam’s right shoulder. They had been here for fifteen minutes. Bucky could have sworn it was longer. “So, I want to know your intentions now.”

Bucky blinked. “My intentions?” 

“Yes, as Steve’s _best friend_ , I look out for the guy-“ Bucky sucked in a breath. A black and white memory flashed before his eyes when he was still small and introduced Steve to his ma as his best pal; he felt a stab behind his third rib. “-So, what are your intentions?” 

Bucky looked back down at his hands again. The memory already flown away replaced with the Technicolor idea of Steve sitting in his apartment waiting for Bucky to come home. He knew that these days he could feel the betrayal and loss in 3D when he realized that Bucky wasn’t going to. “I probably deserved that,” he muttered before looking back up. “Look, I’m trying to look out for him too, Sam. I want to be there for him. I never stopped wanting that.” 

Sam scoffed. Bucky clenched his jaw. His shoulder started to feel tense, like he had been holding it still for hours on the rooftop, waiting for a mark to walk in front of his scope. He hadn’t done that in a while. He was on the straight and narrow. No more kills. But he was starting to get the itchy feeling that there was a target around. He scanned the room again. The idea flashed that maybe this was the time he was finally the target. Did that make Sam the Asset? He unclenched his jaw. 

“What does that mean then, Barnes? Are you just going to magically fix everything that has happened these past eleven months? Because I know how healing works and it isn’t like that. So I certainly would love to hear whatever plan you have.” 

“That’s not what I’m expecting. Look, I know that it was hard, but I’m not an idiot. I don’t think it will just all go away-“

“You beat your ass it won’t.” Sam suddenly threw his hands up in the air, like this was an aggravating conversation for him, like he was dealing with a child that wouldn’t listen. Bucky flinched.

“I know. I’m gonna do right by him now-“

“Because you certainly haven’t been doing that recently.” 

“I _know_. I gotta change some things-“

“Can you? Change, I mean. Because that doesn’t seem very likely.” 

“I can. I have already-“

“Yeah, to an asshole maybe. Steve always told these stories like you were some great guy. Haven’t seen that since you got back. You brushed him off like he was dirt on your shoulder.” 

“Shut up!” A few of the other customers in the café looked over to see Bucky gripping the table, knuckles on his right hand white from the effort. “I get it. I fucked up, real bad. I _know_. But I stand by it. I stand by everything I did this last year even though it ain’t right. I know it hasn’t been, but goddamn it, Sam, it kept Steve alive. Which doesn’t say much with the current state he’s in, but at least he can get better. There are ways for him to get _better_. He can’t get better if he’s dead. And, I know you’re just trying to look out for him, and I did wrong by you, too. And I deserve everything you’ve been saying to me, but I couldn’t hang around. If I were to hurt him after everything, I would throw myself off the fucking roof, put myself in front of someone else’s rifle, anything to make it end. So, it’s been bad. Believe me, I know it’s been bad everyone. But it kept him _alive_ , so I stand by it.” 

Sam took another sip from his mug, and Bucky wondered if everything he just said had been in his head the entire time. Forty three seconds later, Sam put his mug down and looked back up at Bucky, really looked at him. No one has looked at him like that since Sarah Rogers found out that Bucky Barnes was sweet on her little son. That night she said to him _”He don’t see real good sometimes, Steve I mean. It ain’t his eyes. His father was the same. He sometimes can only see what is right in front of his nose. Make sure people do right by him. You do right by him.”_ And he kept that promise. Every second Bucky Barnes was Bucky Barnes and even some when he wasn’t, he kept that promise. 

“I’m glad you said that.” 

Bucky’s eyes grew wide. “What?”

“Steve needs someone to look after him, watch his back. He’d get sick of me if I was there all the time, and Nat, well, he hasn’t seen much of her recently. So that leaves Tony, Bruce, Thor, and Clint. Tony and Bruce can’t get their heads out their asses sometimes, especially around each other. Thor travels galaxies on the daily basis. And Clint does what Nat does even if he doesn’t like to admit it. So, if it can’t be me, and it can’t be them; it’s gotta be you. So, I’m glad that you can stand up for yourself. That means you can stand up for him.” A grin broke out on Sam’s face that was so _Sam_ , and Bucky started to wonder if he was just played. Sam wasn’t a spy. He made sure everyone knew. He was a solider, not an agent. Maybe he just had a good poker face or maybe it was hard not to be more spy in their new line of work. 

“I-“ Bucky swallowed and looked down at his mug. The steam no longer swam above the coffee in his cup. Twenty six minutes, he thought. “I don’t know what to say. Thought I would have to grovel some more.” 

“Look, I don’t have any hard feelings, as long as you don’t do it again.” Sam gave him a pointed look. “Fool me once, Barnes. So, you fucked up. Now we’re going to move on. We have a very similar goal, helping Steve. Let’s start there. Therapy is at 1600 sharp on Tuesdays. He’s never gone, but the therapist always has him scheduled on. So maybe try to convince him to go tomorrow.”

**Tuesday, October 6th, 4:14pm**

_”This is Sam Wilson. I can’t come to the phone right now. You know the drill.”_

“Hey, Sam. It’s Barnes- _Bucky_. It’s Bucky Barnes.” Bucky looked up at the front door that he hadn’t moved from. He had many doors slammed in his face. This one felt like it was the hardest one to swallow though. “I, uh, tried what you said. Um, didn’t go too well. Tried to talk to him about going today, and uh, he kinda just locked himself out of his place. No sign that he’s going to let me back in today. I’ll let you know if anything changes. Okay, uh, bye.” 

**Friday, October 16th, 7:34am**

“Why did I let you make a meeting so early? Ugh.” Sam groaned and dropped his head onto the café table. There was a slight breeze, and the sun was still low in the sky. It was starting to get chillier out, but the bitter conditions of a New York winter were still a few weeks away. The edging panic of the winter was itching the back of Bucky’s neck, telling him that he had to keep checking the radiators in the apartment and had to make sure Steve started bundling up now or else the flu would come earlier than not. Bucky thought about moving to Florida when the temperature dropped below 70 degrees the other day as that itch got stronger. He wondered if it was always there, and Hydra just told him that it wasn’t. Steve wasn’t in Florida though, so moving wasn’t an option.

“You go on a run with Steve at 600 every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“And how would you know Steve’s morning routine? Already sleeping with him?” Sam didn’t say it with any maliciousness in his voice. He almost looked amused, teasing even, like how you would when you knew a friend had a crush back in grade school. 

“Nah,” Bucky shook his head, looking at his coffee with a heat blossoming over his ears. “Just hear you complain about it a lot. Even Clint knows your guys’ schedule by how much you gripe about it.”

“So, you ain’t in his bed? Hm, I thought the love confessions who lead you guys to immediately move in with each other and go into the honeymoon phase.” Sam took a sip of his coffee with a laugh playing behind his eyes. Bucky suddenly remembered what it was like to have friends. 

He shook his head again. The familiar heat back again. _Blushing_ , he thought. That was unusual for the Asset, even unusual for the Bucky Barnes. Casanovas don’t blush he was always told. You make the dames blush, not you. That was something Steve never understood. “I haven’t earned that yet. Wouldn’t even ask that of him.” 

“So, you have thought about it.” 

“Course,” Bucky looked out the window. “He’s gorgeous. Best guy in New York. Best guy anywhere, really. That’s all I ever wanted, since I was sixteen, fifteen maybe. But, I couldn’t ask him of that, not yet at least. Maybe in a few weeks, after some more time.” 

“You know,” Sam leaned back in his chair, arms open and wide. Bucky knew why he was such a good counselor now. He made people feel safe, secure even. Made them want to talk to him. “I heard lots of stories about you growing up and now with Steve. Everyone says you’re a lady killer, Steve too. Says you could get girls to take you home left and right.” 

Bucky shrugged, looking back to the table. He got flashes sometimes, of the girls and the dancehalls that they filled. He remembers what he would do, and how he would act. It came in handy when trying to seduce marks. The muscle memory of an old time gentleman always played well in the 21st century. He could never remember their faces though. It was ironic. He remembered everyone’s face from _after_ , after the fall, after Hydra, after the Asset became Barnes who became Bucky who sometimes was still the Asset. “They never were lookin’ for long term, only a fun ride. I was the guy who provided that. It was a mutual agreement. We went our separate ways afterwards, and I would tip my hat to them next time they came around. But that’s all it ever was. It’s not the same as going steady.” 

“You were quite the gentleman.” 

“Had to be, back then. Ma would smack me into next Tuesday if I was anything less than, and Steve, well, he would help her I think. I kept myself around moral compasses, kept myself as straight as I could.” 

“Seems like you do the same now.” 

Bucky looked back over at where Sam was still leaning back in his chair. Yeah, he was real good at this. “They’re the only ones that will have me. You lot have a hero complex ten miles wide. Think it would be impossible for you all to let a stray dog go out on the street again. Hell, you took in one man out of time, what’s another onto the plate?” Sam chuckled from somewhere deep in his chest. He nodded like he was agreeing with him before taking another sip of his coffee.

“We don’t talk about you enough, Barnes. You’re one interesting guy, got your own stories to tell. Maybe next week, you’ll actually open up a bit more.”

Bucky looked down at his hands and saw the metal gleam from the sun streaming in from the window. “Call me Bucky.” Sam grinned. 

**Tuesday, October 19th, 4:02pm**

_”This is Sam Wilson. I can’t come to the phone right now. You know the drill.”_

“It’s Bucky. Uh, I know you’re out of town, but we just got called out on a mission. So, no therapy this week, but uh, he didn’t lock me out of the apartment when I tried to talk about it this time, just walked out of the room with that disappointed face he likes so much. But yeah, gotta go.” He finished cleaning his sniper rifle as Steve dropped the shield across the quinjet from everyone else. Bucky frowned, and started gathering his stuff, plopping down into Steve’s personal space with a small smile. It was returned. Progress, he thought. 

**Wednesday, November 14th, 3:37pm**

“Damn, Bucky. I know they said you got hit, but they didn’t say you got hit that bad. Looks like you took a sledgehammer to the face.” Sam put down a cup of tea in front of Bucky where he was sitting at the counter in Sam’s sometimes apartment in the Tower. He leaned to where his elbows were resting on the smooth granite, peering at the shiner on Bucky’s face. 

“This is what I get for trying to watch a guy’s six,” Bucky mumbled, holding a pack of frozen peas to his face. 

“What? Steve do something stupid again?” 

Bucky scoffed. “When does he not? Kid thought he could take down some lizard creature that was like ten feet tall by himself. Got myself knocked off the building and on my face by the tail, broke my cheekbone and eye-socket. They said I was lucky not to have serious brain damage. Surprisingly, this actually is an improvement from couple days ago.” 

Sam chuckled again, shaking his head, probably reminiscing about all the trouble that Steve got him into the past year or so. “So, mission went okay?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky shrugged. “Bad guys were defeated. No civilian casualties. Went okay to me.” 

“You break even yet then?” 

Bucky sucked in a breath and looked up at him where Sam was waiting patiently. He dropped the peas onto the table. “Don’t know what you mean,” Bucky muttered, chugging down his tea. Sam made a noise instead of replying. Bucky looked back up at him where Sam still had that patient face. There was a twitch from the metal arm. It only happened when Bucky was getting anxious, which happened a lot these days. He could feel it whir from the sensors, could hear the power that flowed through the complicated machinery. His eyes clenched shut, and he steadied his breathing. “It ain’t fair, ya know. He’s so good. So fucking _good_. Everything he’s done, he’s done for someone else. Never took a single thing for himself, and it’s so unfair. What he has to go through, it just ain’t right. I’ve killed so many people. So many that no one knows for sure. No one knows how many missions the Asset was sent on over the years. The people caught in the crossfire, too. No one knows. There has been so much blood on my hands. I feel like there hasn’t been a moment when my hands were clean, and yet, he gets it. He is suffering so much, and he’s so _good_. What did he ever do to deserve this?” The _why not me_ goes unspoken. 

Sam walks over to drop into the sit next to where Bucky still has his eyes shut tight, replaying the memories of screams and horror shocked faces. “Hey,” he says quietly. “What he’s going through has nothing to do with you. He was this way before he even knew you were alive. The reason this is happening to him is that he went through traumatic events in quick succession and never processed them right. He isn’t paying your penance. And, what the Asset did, it wasn’t Bucky Barnes.” 

Bucky laughed this cruel laugh and shot out of his chair. He started pacing the room, reorganizing the memories he had filed in his brain. He sometimes couldn’t remember which ones came first, which ones weren’t real. There were so many, too many. He has lived so many lives. “People always say I wasn’t the one who did those bad things. That I was a good man. Bucky Barnes wasn’t a good man. I was _never_ a good man. Always had a red hot temper. Steve was the one always getting into fights, and I always finished them, sure. But, I started fights, too. Not good ones, they had no real reason like Steve’s. Sometimes my knuckles would just itch for it. Sometimes I just wanted to do something to get the aggression out. I would just wait for someone to say something that might start a fight. Couldn’t get much of what I wanted back then, had to get something to take the edge off, and I could always get a fight if I needed it.” 

Sam turned around in his chair to look where Bucky was walking from the front door to the windows. He was doing a subconscious parameter check Sam realized. “You think you deserve what happened to you.” It wasn’t a question. 

Bucky looked up at him with a feral expression. Sam remembered the look that Steve described to him on the helicarrier, and he thought maybe this was the same one. He walked back over to the window and peered out to the streets below. “I was good at it, you know. Real good. That’s why they kept me around so long. They could have easily replaced me. They trained people like Natasha. Had plenty of people to do their dirty work. They didn’t need to keep me around for so long, but I was so _good_ at what I did. No good man is that good at killin’. No good man would be that good for that long.”

“They trained you to be that way. Wiped your memories so you wouldn’t remember what you were really fighting for in the beginning. You wouldn’t have done that out of your own free will.”

Bucky opened his mouth and then closed it again, like he was considering what to say next. “In the beginning, when the machine didn’t work as good you know, they couldn’t wipe everything. There would always be something left or it would come back too quick. The machinery wasn’t ever that good until the 80’s probably.” He sucked in a breath. “So, I always remembered this boy. Never remembered myself, but could never get _him_ out of my head. Smallest thing you had ever seen. Your hands were to meet up if you put them around his waist. You could count every one of his ribs, easily. See his heart beat under his chest even. But, I always remembered he had the bluest eyes. There were hurricanes in those eyes.” He stopped suddenly and walked to the door and then back. “They told me I was doing it for the boy. That I was making the world a safer place for the boy, and that without me, the boy would die. And it would be my fault. I could save him if I just shot this president, or this mother, or that scientist, or that traitor.”

Sam, for the first time in his life, didn’t know what to say. 

“So, no, I wouldn’t have killed those people if I had known the truth. But you damn well best believe that I, Bucky Barnes, the Asset, the Ghost, whoever, would kill this entire earth for him in a heartbeat. Wouldn’t even have to ask me twice.” 

Bucky looked up finally, his eyes set with a hardness and honesty that Sam had seen in very few men. In that moment, Sam felt an immense amount of pity for anyone who would ever try to harm the Captain. The Winter Solider, he remembered, was still in that brain of Bucky Barnes; he was still always right under the surface waiting for a reason to come out, and there was no better reason then Steven Grant Rogers. 

**Tuesday, November 17th, 3:59pm**

_”This is Sam Wilson. I can’t come to the phone right now. You know the drill.”_

“You never pick up my calls. I’m starting to think you avoid them.” Bucky shock his head and looked back at the magazine that was in his lap. “But, uh, I’m waiting in the lobby of some fancy psychologist office. Finally got Steve to agree to go to therapy, so yeah. We’re doing that today. Try to hold off the cavalry for the night if you can, I think this is going to be a bad night.” 

**Thursday, December 10th, 2:13pm**

“You guys have sex yet or what?” 

Bucky choked on his coffee. The tact of this century. “Excuse me?” 

“I know you said that you wouldn’t ask him that yet, but that you wanted it. And well, it’s been a few weeks in therapy, and you spend like three or four nights a week at his apartment. Which, I know is true because Nat told me. And you know that she doesn’t lie with gossip, so you can’t go on denying it.” 

“If you guys got it all figured out, why you gotta ask?” Bucky mumbled into his sandwich. 

Sam shrugged but gave him a grin that said enough. 

Bucky sighed and figured that he wasn’t going to get out of this one. “No, we haven’t actually. So all you gossipers can just shut your pie holes about it.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow in response while eating his own food. He apparently was letting Bucky do all the talking today. He always had a way to make a man talk.

He cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started. “Well, we _tried_. But um, it’s still too early, I think, in his therapy to do anything like that. He still goes into those trances where he washed his hands for hours. It hasn’t been so bad. I can usually get him back to bed within an hour tops, but it’s still there, you know. So, we were, um, necking, I guess, after we saw a movie and dinner and whatnot. But, once some clothes were removed, uh, he started hyperventilating and pretty much ran away to lock himself in the bathroom. He was muttering stuff about getting it all over me and how I was never going to want him again and just some of the usual stuff. I couldn’t get him to open the door for me, so I had to force it open because I was afraid he was going to hurt himself. And uh, that made the situation worse in a way, and it just happened so fast. We both stayed in the bathroom all night, and uh, he wouldn’t let me touch him for couple days after that.”

There was a shocked look on Sam’s face for a minute, before he shook himself out of it. He looked down for a second. “What did you do?” 

“Did what you were always telling us to do. I let him sulk for a few days, get it out of his system, and then I sat him down and made him talk about it.” 

That shocked look came by on Steve’s face, but this time there was more amusement in it. “What did you guys talk about?” 

“Well,” Bucky squared his shoulders and lifted his chin like he was back in the moment. “I told him that if he didn’t want me, that was fine. I can accept that. Wasn’t going to try and force anything that wasn’t there. But, if he suddenly thinks that I don’t want him, then he really was as stupid as I thought. He’s my best guy, and I would do anything for him. If that meant, no sex, it’s fine. But, until he tells me he doesn’t want it, I still very much do, and I’m willing to wait for it, no matter how long.” 

“Wow,” Sam grinned. “I’m proud of you. Good job, man. And see? Doesn’t it feel good just letting someone hear it how it is?” Bucky nodded slightly, and Sam’s smile got wider. 

**Tuesday, December 15th, 4:34 pm**

_”This is Sam Wilson. I can’t come to the phone right now. You know the drill.”_

“Seriously, pal. I know I kid about how you don’t pick up my calls, but this is actually fucking important.” Bucky groaned from where he stood in Steve’s therapist office. “Look, something went south with Natasha’s mission, and I need to get there as quick as I can. So, if you could just get Steve from therapy that would be great. If no one is there to walk him home, he wonders for hours until someone finds him. I’m going to call Bruce, too, but like, it would be better if it was you.” 

**Friday, January 1st, 12:12am**

“So, what’s the resolution this year?” Sam asked, sipping at his beer from where they stood at the balcony of the Tower. Fireworks still booming in the distance over the skyline. He tracked as Bucky’s eyes went over to where Steve was laughing at some animated story Ms. Potts seemed to be telling him with the help of Darcy. Sam chuckled. “Always a sap, you two are.” 

“What about you? I see you always trying to chat up Agent Hill. She could kick your ass and way smarter than you too, but she might go for it if you let her use the suit.” Sam pushed at Bucky’s shoulder where he was cackling into his hand. 

“I am a catch, thank you.” Sam laughed along with him. 

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “You would make anyone very happy. You’re a great guy.” Bucky looked down at the street before looking back at where the sky was still sparkling. “He would want you to be happy, you know.” He gave Sam the same look that he gave Bucky during their first meeting. And Sam couldn’t pretend that he didn’t know what he was talking about because he did. He supposed he did enough running from it that someone would eventually see the tread marks. 

Sam immediately looked at the ground. “Yeah,” he nodded. “He would. Still hard, though. Riley- he was the best thing-“ He shook his head, and looked down. 

Bucky clapped a hand over his shoulder. “It’s not your penance to hold onto this forever. You don’t have to forget him to move on. Love don’t have to be finite.” 

Bucky held his gaze, and Sam suddenly realized how ancient his eyes were. They had seen so much that it was hard not to think of him as somewhat wise. Those eyes held a world that Sam was never going to get to see, he thought. He didn’t know he really wanted to. “When did you get so mushy?” Sam asked as he pulled Bucky into a hug. 

“I spent six months surrounded by therapists and psychoanalysts. Not to mention, that I’m one of the most observant people in the world which is a proven fact, by the way. So, you know, I picked up a few things.” Sam laughed at that before pulling away. 

“Sargent Barnes! My friend, you have been requested for a weapons aiming competition! Do you accept this challenge?” Thor’s voice boomed over everything else on the roof, and Bucky chuckled loudly before walking over to a table filled with knives and darts and other sharp instruments that Clint had a Cheshire grin next to. 

Sam looked over to where Steve was now looking over the horizon himself and he decided to join him. The blonde looked up at his approach and smiled at him but otherwise didn’t say anything. “Nice night,” Same said in greeting. Steve looked at all the people all over the roof laughing and watching the throwing competition. 

He nodded, eyes on Bucky who was doing a dance for getting an apple with a dart that Tony was technically trying to eat. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Landed yourself a great guy, you know. Couldn’t pick a better one myself.” Sam pointed over to the man in question. 

Steve got that soft smile he always did when someone was talking about Bucky. It was slightly bashful, but also filled with something deep, something real that has taken a while to reach the surface. “Think so?” Sam nodded. “Yeah, me too. One hell of a guy.” 

“Well, it’s been a long time, but you got my blessing. Seems like he thinks more about you than Stark thinks about Stark, so I say he’s going to do right by you.” 

“Really?” Steve had a hope in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Sam smiled. “Had a few sit downs with the guy, and we got to know each other. I know he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. Know that for a fact, so you know, keep him around. See where this goes.” 

Steve looked down at where his hands were hanging loosely by his sides. Greyscale memories played behind his eyes when red didn’t exist in his world, when he had to wonder what the color of his ma’s eyes were. When he thought more about how blue danced behind thick eyelashes and how _blue_ it could really be. He pictured bony hands instead of the ones attached to him, ones with bruised knuckles from the backs of alleyways and callouses from rough charcoal and pencils. Those hands, he thought, those hands belonged to Steve Rogers. They always would. 

He stuck out his right hand before he could think different about it. Sam looked at it quickly before grabbing it with a bright smile. “Thank you, Sam.” Steve said, voice raw with some unspoken words. “For everything. You reminded me the good I was fighting for, reminded me that I’m not- You reminded me I’m still good. So, thank you.” 

Sam just gripped his hand harder and didn’t think about the last time his friend touched him. 

**Friday, November 11th of the next year, 8:36pm**

_”This is Sam Wilson. I can’t come to the phone right now. You know the drill.”_

“Jesus Christ, Wilson. I swear you do this just to fuck with me! I think in the two and a half years that we have been on a friendly basis, you have never once answered my calls. Anyways, I just wanted to call and let you know that, uh, he said yes. So, guess you got to plan your best man speech soon. And, uh, thanks for everything, Sam. They don’t make them as good as you.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://bagels-and-seagulls.tumblr.com)


End file.
